How To Ruin Your Life In Fourteen Days Or Less
by miss1nformation
Summary: Jo Calderone realizes he's messed up. Characters: Jo Calderone, Lady Gaga, various others in her entourage. /WiP, but my muse has ran away, sorry./
1. Chapter 1

**How to Ruin Your Life in Fourteen Days or Less**

_A Lesson in Epic Failure_

**Prologue**

He sat at the bar, whiskey in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other. If the day had to be summed up in one word, it would be "shit". It was just one of those days when nothing seemed to go right. He'd nearly been pushed onto the subway tracks, he'd lost his girl, and he'd lost his lighter. What were the odds of losing his two favorite things in one day? Yes, "shit" summed up his day perfectly. But it didn't all happen in one day. No, this shit storm had been brewing for a few weeks.

**Day 1 – Springfield, NE**

The day had started out like any other day. He woke up to find her snuggling against him under the covers, her pointed, blood red nails glistening in the morning sun that slipped through the closed curtains. Her hair was a mess, as was her makeup, but that was nothing new. He had to admit though, no matter how rowdy they got in bed, her wigs never moved. It was still early, so he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of her heels against the floor, those ungodly heels. He heard the bathroom door close and the water turn on. He knew what was coming next, it was like clockwork. She'd turn off the shower, come out of the bathroom dripping wet, and she would still be wearing those fucking heels.

When the bathroom door opened and she stepped out, the first thing he could hear was the squelch of her wet shoes. He rolled over, glanced at the clock, and slowly rose from the bed. It was only 9:13am and he already had a headache.

'Fuck,' he thought as he made his way to the kitchen. He popped two aspirin and downed a glass of whiskey. "A perfect start to a perfect day," he said bitterly under his breath. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked for a cigarette and his lighter. Cigarette, check. Lighter…lighter? Where was the lighter?

"Babe, have you seen my fucking lighter? I can't find it!" She poked her head out from the bedroom door, one false eyelash in place, the other between her fingers. "No."

She started to say something else, but he wasn't in the mood for conversation. "I swear Gaga! I don't see how in the hell you don't poke your fucking eyes out with those goddamned nails!" The comment came out a lot pissier than expected. "Fucking headache," he mumbled. He glimpsed her middle finger in the doorway and grinned as he turned back to his search for the lighter. It took about twenty minutes, but he finally found it.

She came out of the bedroom, standing a good eight inches taller than her natural height. She was wearing a long brunette wig and an outfit he could only describe as 'steampunk.' "What the hell is up with steampunk anyways? That shit's everywhere," he said to himself. It was strange to see her as a brunette again. She'd been a bottle blonde virtually since they'd first met six years ago. But this was definitely one of her sexier wigs. It reminded him of when they first met, he behind the bar, she practically naked behind an electric keyboard.

They had flown into Nebraska Sunday night to start principal photography and production of her new video "Yoü and I." The set location was in Springfield, but the town and surrounding areas were so rural that they had to fly in through Omaha's Millard airport. Filming was expected to take about four days. It ended up being seven incredibly long ones.

The first day of shooting took place in an old, weathered barn surrounded by a large corn field. The scene being shot today included a large block table elevated to about a forty-five degree angle and a 'mixed media art piece' made of wood, plastic, and steel. He didn't know why she had to give shit such extravagant names like 'mixed media art piece,' it was a fucking tank. She had been one to exaggerate things like this for as long as they had known each other, but lately it was getting on his nerves. Everything was getting on his nerves lately. And when things got on his nerves of late, he would self medicate with booze. The harder the better as far as he was concerned.

Because he wasn't in the scene they were filming that day he decided to explore the site for a while. He knew the filming would take several hours since they were still waiting on the tank to arrive. When it finally did arrive and had been fitted to the water storage system inside the barn the crew closed the doors to the building. He walked to the door he had originally exited from, only to find it locked. The second door, where the tank had been brought in, was locked as well.

"What the hell?" He continued his way around the decaying building looking for another way in. He never found one, but he did find a punched out knot in one of the wall planks that allowed him to see inside. He felt like a voyeur as he watched the scene unfold.

Gaga was being walked to a large metal table, covered in a robe. When she was beside the table she let the robe slip from her shoulders, but he could not see what she was wearing because three members of the Haüs were surrounding her, helping her onto the table. When they moved away he could see that all she was wearing was plastic wrap, wound tightly around her like mummification cloth. He could not see any other clothing except a pair of green shoes. Her arms were bound to her side by the clear plastic. There was a man standing on the other side of the table holding a sponge. It looked like he was bathing her.

He continued to watch through his peep hole in the side of the barn wall. He could see that the man standing over her was cutting away the dressings. Her arms were now free and her breasts exposed. She cupped them in her hands while he continued to attend to her fittings. The cameras rolled back and Gaga was helped off of the table, and then walked over to the tank, which was filled to three quarters. Here she climbed a ladder and stepped down into the tank. The plastic wrapping was still around her and as she became submerged it began to unravel, filling the space with its almost eerie presence.

The cameras panned back in, their focus on the tank, which was beginning to fill with water again. The ghost of her plastic confines floated weightlessly around her, causing the water to appear cloudy. When the water was to the top he could see that she had started to float, her hair moving in sinuous strands. The cameras rolled out again, and some of the water began to drain.

When it was low enough that Gaga was able to stand on her feet again, the water now down to her chin, she half turned around. Her back was partly facing him now, and he could see that she was wearing a different pair of high heeled monstrosities. The camera rolled close for one last shot in the tank. As it drew near, she turned so that her back was completely facing the camera, and placed her left hand against the clear tank wall. He could see now that she was completely naked. His pants twitched at the sight.

The water drained slowly from the tank, causing her body to look oddly distorted. Wet plastic clung to her hips. He knew she was very confident, at least outwardly, in her sexuality, but was thankful for the modesty the plastic afforded her at the moment. Mark helped her out of the tank and back into her robe. As they were walking back towards the mock dressing room in silence, Gaga looked excitedly around the set. When she realized he was nowhere to be seen her smile faltered briefly. His heart sank at the flash of sorrow in her eyes.

As soon as one of the entrance doors was open he rushed inside, anxious to find her. He knew she would think he was an asshole for not being there. And while he knew he was an asshole, it was not for that reason. By the time he finally got inside and maneuvered around all of the props and cables she had already disappeared. He could hear Laurieann lecturing her about the choreography again. He had not been on good terms with Laurieann ever since she was quoted by some magazine as basically being the brain child behind "Lady Gaga." 'Bullshit,' he thought. 'That bitch has about as much talent as a lug nut and about as much brains too!'

He started to light a cigarette and pull back the curtain to the dressing room when Laurieann rushed him. She grabbed his wrist with unnecessary force, causing him to drop his un-lit cigarette. "Whoa stud! You can't go back there. Gags is having trouble with the choreo again and has to re-shoot one of the dance numbers. She keeps fucking up the timing," she said the last part just loud enough that Gaga would hear. "Anyways, she doesn't have time for you babe," she added, her voice laced with malice. As she said this she was hitting him hard against chest. He staggered backward a few steps.

He stared at her for several moments, his mouth agape, his expression incredulous. Laurieann turned to go back behind the curtain. "Gaga!" he called out over her shoulder. Laurieann was suddenly in his face. "Get out of here you miserable fuck!" she hissed, and disappeared behind the curtain, a satisfied smile stretching her lips.

He wanted to storm through after her and slap that shit eating grin right from her face. But his mother had taught him not to hit a woman out of anger. Instead, he clenched his fists and calmly walked out of the old barn to finally have a smoke. Behind the curtain and out of his earshot, Gaga asked who had called for her. Laurieann told her it was no one, and continued her lecture about the choreography she kept messing up.

After about fifteen minutes of lecture and demonstration, Laurieann was ready to let Gaga try the moves again. Gaga came out from behind the curtain dressed in black leather straps, leather boots and a long teal wig. She followed Laurieann towards a series of straw covered platforms of varying heights on the other side of the barn. She was unsteady on her feet as they traveled across the large space. As she was about to mount the center platform she trembled violently and crumpled to a heap on the golden straw.

Just as she was going down, he had re-entered the barn. The moment he realized what was happening, he was rushing across the large room towards her. He almost slipped on the hay twice, but finally made it to her side. She was freezing cold and trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Panic consumed him as he reached out to her.

"Jo…" she whispered weakly as he enveloped her into his arms, pulling her limp body close. "Babe, are you ok? What happened? Are you hurt? Do you need to lie—" "Where were you?" she asked faintly. He looked at her in bewilderment. "I went outside to scope the place out, but when I came back, all of the doors were—" She cut him off again, but he was not upset, only worried. "Shhh," she whispered, and nuzzled her face into the bend of his neck.

Everyone was crowding in around them, inching closer; everyone except Laurieann. Montana, who was standing at the back of the crowd, watched as Laurieann walked silently out of the barn, phone in hand. Ian was on the phone with the physician Gaga kept on retainer, nodding vigorously as he explained her symptoms. Worry wore away at Ian's features. Mark had ran out to the black SUV Gaga had arrived in and brought back a bottle of cold water. Michael brought in a blanket.

Gaga's arms were wrapped as tightly around Jo's neck as her weakened state would allow. As soon as she was securely wrapped in the blanket, arms still firmly around his neck, Mark gave him the opened bottle. "Here, try to drink some of this," Jo said, his voice not as strong as he wanted it to be. When she looked into his eyes, he could see fear. He knew immediately why she was afraid. While lying in bed one early morning after making love, she had confided in him that one of her biggest fears was that she would cross from being borderline positive to having full blown Lupus. She'd had the same fear in her eyes then too.

He blinked rapidly; he would not let her see him cry. He had to be strong for her. She drank a few more sips of water, her hands cupping the bottle, but not really holding it. When she signaled that she was finished he sat the bottle beside them and gently rocked her back and forth. He hummed softly in her ear while he waited for Ian to finish his call. He could feel that her breathing had begun to regulate, coming in slower, more even measures.

"Dr. Tracey seems to think she'll be fine," Ian said in a rush. "I told him what happened, explained the tank and the draft. He thinks it may just be mild fatigue and maybe a cold coming on. But, given her history, she needs to rest for a few days and stay hydrated."

A look of panic replaced the fear on her face. "But I can't miss any days on this shoot! My Little Monsters will be expecting this video soon!" There was an edge of pleading in her voice. She looked around at the crowd imploringly and began to cry. "They already call me 'Latey Gaga!' If this video is late, I don't know what I'll do!" He pulled her closer to him, stroking her tangled teal hair. "Shhh, baby, shhh. They'll understand if it's late. I've spoke to several Little Monsters on Twitter. And yeah, some of those kids are fucking bat shit crazy, but they all adore you, and wouldn't want you to make yourself sick trying to overdo it. We'll just go back to the hotel, get you a hot bath, and go from there. What do ya say? Eh?" He winked at her mischievously. She managed to nod her head in agreement; her body quivered from tear induced hiccups.

The crowd began to move back, giving them room to get up. Mark and Ian were on either side of her, each supporting an arm, while Jo stood up. As soon as they were on their feet, Mark and Ian trailing close behind, they made their way to the large black Suburban. Pete was behind the wheel, his expression a mixture of concerned and vigilant.

The drive back to the hotel seemed to take forever. The longer they drove up Highway 50, the more things began to look the same, blurring around the edges like in a dream. Jo was sitting in the very back of the SUV, Gaga curled up beside him, her head in his lap. She was sound asleep within five minutes of leaving the set.

Pete had given him one of the two-way radios so that they could communicate across the mass vehicle without shouting. They had been discussing the drive back to the hotel while she was still awake. As soon as they were sure she was asleep, the tone of their conversation changed. "Poor kid, she works too hard," Pete said. "She just gives and gives until her little body can't give any more. I keep telling her that if she doesn't slow down a little that I'm going to call Joe. I used to threaten to call Cynthia, but the threat of Joe is much more effective," he laughed. "Ha ha, yeah, I know what ya mean," Jo replied. "I'd threaten to spank her, but I think she'd enj—" Pete cleared his throat loudly, stopping Jo mid-sentence. Jo realized he didn't want to continue this train of thought with the Dutchman, who was like her father away from home. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Pete broke the silence. "How is she? Is she still sleeping?" "Yeah, she's knocked out cold. But she's finally warmed up. I was getting worried for a minute that she wouldn't warm back up." "Jo, promise me you'll make her call her dad tonight or in the morning. He's been really worried about her." "I'll give him a call tonight just to check in, then I'll have her call when she's had a little rest," Jo assured him. They rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the sleeping starlet.

When they arrived at the hotel the paparazzi were waiting. The photogs knew nothing of her collapse, just that she was staying there. The black SUV drove around to the service entrance. Jo knew not to try getting out until Pete had opened the door for them. Not wanting to wake her, he gently lifted her head from his lap and laid it down upon the seat. He moved to the middle row to get a better view of the back lot. When Pete finally opened the door to give Jo the all clear, he asked him to follow him to the back of the SUV. Pete opened the back completely, laid the back seat down flat, and began the slow, careful removal of his charge. Jo stood by expectantly, ready for Pete to put her into his arms.

"Hey Jo, can you run up to the front desk and ask them to send up two security guards ahead of us? Just to make sure no one is waiting to ambush us," he added in his thick accent. Jo began to protest, but realized making a scene with a man almost twice his size was unwise.

By the time he reached the suite they shared, Gaga was already tucked into bed, and Pete was sitting in a chair by the wall, just outside the bedroom. The suite was adjacent to Pete's, and the two were connected by an interior door. "If you need me, just knock," Pete said as he got up. "Thanks man," Jo said and they shook hands. Jo did not see Pete or anyone else with the Haüs or crew the rest of the night.

When Gaga awoke it was 11:45pm; they had left the cornfield at 7:00pm. Jo had been in the sitting room reading an autobiography by Keith Richards, when he heard her stirring in the next room. "Jo?" she called, her voice still heavy with sleep. He dog-eared his page and laid the book down on the table. When she saw him poke his head into the door frame she smiled weakly. "Hey you." she said, her head tilted slightly to the side. She slid back, making room for him on the bed. "Hey yourself doll," he replied, sitting beside her. She nestled her knees behind him. "How are you feeling? You look a lot better now that you've rested." "I feel a lot better, thank you," she said in a tiny voice.

"I see Pete managed to get those _shoes_ off," he said, applying extra emphasis on shoes. She replied by sticking her tongue out. He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose, then pressed his lips softly to hers. Pulling herself up, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning deeper into the kiss. After a few moments Jo pulled back and took in as much of her as he could from where he sat. "Did Pete change you too?" he asked, grinning. She leaned back and pulled the covers down farther to look for herself. Pete had indeed changed her out of the leather bondage straps and into a soft, lavender slip style dress. He had also removed her teal wig. "I guess he did."

He studied her appearance for a few moments, her natural hair, with its dark roots, the way it brushed against her shoulders. The spaghetti thin straps of the dress were lost beneath it. He took in the low dip of the dress, and how it clung to her in all of the right places. He licked his lips, his breath coming a little slower than before. Leaning in, his lips found hers again and he inched in closer. Using his left hand for leverage, he put his right hand around her neck, fingers entwining her hair. He edged closer, pulling her towards him. Her hands rested on the side of his waist, pulling gently at the cotton of his t-shirt. She moaned softly as the kiss became more intense. His fingers traced down the line of her neck and hooked around the thin strap resting on her shoulder. As he pulled the strap down his lips feathered a trail from her lips to her neck. She shuddered beneath his touch.

She tilted her head to the left and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her fingers tightened on his shirt and she lifted it up, exposing the skin around his waist and his Armani boxers. Slowly lifting the cotton upward, she let her nails graze his newly bared skin, and delighted in the horripilation this elicited. In the same slow fashion, she pulled the shirt over his shoulders and tossed it to the floor, where it would be forgotten until morning.

Sitting on her lower legs, feet beneath her, she motioned Jo onto the bed. He crawled over her and sat with his back against the headboard, legs outstretched. She turned to face him, and languidly lifted the hem of her short dress, exposing her unicorn tattoo. She straddled him, lowering herself haltingly. Cupping his face, she bent in to kiss him again, an underlying urgency rising to the surface. He returned the kiss with just as much urgency. He allowed his hands to roam, moving lingeringly down her back, finally coming to rest on her thighs. Moving slowly upward, he slipped his hands under the silken material of her dress. As his hands progressed upward, he realized she was wearing no panties. He was instantly hard, his erection straining painfully against his pants.

Feeling his stiffness beneath her, Gaga leaned into him, grinding her pelvis against his erection. He moaned loudly into her mouth, bucking his hips to meet her. With languid fingers Gaga unclasped Jo's belt and pants. Once he was unzipped her fingers curled around the waist of his boxers. Jo lifted his self off the bed slightly to allow the offensive pieces of clothing to be pushed down. He settled on to the bed in a slightly reclined position.

She leaned forward, her hot skin brushing teasingly against his newly exposed flesh. She licked his neck, just below the ear. He shuddered beneath her. Continuing to focus on his neck, she began to rock slowly back and forth, gradually moving her hips in a languorous, circular motion. Her movements allowed physical contact while preventing penetration.

Jo grabbed her hips, trying to control her movements, but she removed his hands. "Uh, uh," she breathed into his ear. "Stef," he said in a ragged breath. He could feel her smile against his neck as her lips traveled towards his clavicle. Hips never quickening, she leaned in, her lips exploring his chest. She allowed her movements to slow as she worked her way towards his stomach, hands on either side of his waist.

He moved his hand toward the minute space between them, trying again to gain any semblance of control. She would have none of it. She sat up straight, resting at the top of his thighs. Taking one hand, and then his other, she pinned each below her knees. A wicked smile played across her lips.

He groaned, half in pleasure, half in frustration. He was as hard as he could ever recall being, and here she was being a fucking cock tease. He tried, half-heartedly, to free his hands, but she only shook her head. He wondered if she was trying to torture him to death. If so, she was succeeding beautifully.

She leaned in, his erection hard against her stomach, and licked his lips. With her right hand on the headboard for support, she reached between them. Taking his cock into her hand, she began to slowly work up and down against its length. Jo gasped at the sudden, full contact, his breath like fire against her face. When he tried to free his hands again, she let him, and he rested them on her hips.

After a few moments of slow, deliberate attention, she finally allowed him to penetrate her. She lowered herself onto his length as slowly as she could manage. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached his hilt. Sitting upright now, she rocked her hips in a torpid, meticulous circle. As her pace picked up, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, hands gripping the sheets.

His hands explored her body, brushing over every surface within his reach. He sat upright and wrapped his arms around her back, drawing her flush against him. He kissed her with a fever he had not felt in quite some time. His lips planted kisses on every naked surface they could find. He brought his right hand down between them, letting it slip beneath her dress, and began to massage her pulsing nerve bundle.

A guttural growl escaped her lips as she rocked harder against his now sweat drenched body. He pulled at the other strap of her dress, offended that the fabric was still between them. Finally he was able to work both straps off of her shoulders, allowing the silken garment to fall, gathering at her hips. His free hand fondled her breasts, the other still at work between them. He sucked the hard nub of her nipples, gently nipping them with his teeth.

As his fingers quickened and pushed harder against her, she quickened her pace, now almost manic. Primal sounds filled the thick air between them as they worked towards their shared goal. The quicker he moved, the faster her hips would rock. The louder he became, the more savage the sounds escaping her became. She was leaning back now, knuckles white against the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath them. They were both on the edge, hanging on that final moment of truth.

"Jo…oh God, Jo," she said in a breathy moan. She tried to say his name again as the first wave of ecstasy crashed against her, but she had no breath. As she came, she turned her face away from him, like she was trying to hide her true, most vulnerable self from him. She arched her back as far as her body would allow and screamed his name, screamed his praises, screamed for the hell of it. But she never let him see her face.

As the first wave of her orgasm reached its peak, Jo reached his, his body trembling violently at the release. Just as his orgasm crested, she was hit by an aftershock, her body convulsing as she came again, more fiercely than before. But still she did not let him see her face. He tried to force her to look at him, but she refused to be moved.

They both collapsed onto the bed, panting but satisfied. She turned onto her side, her back facing him. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, drawing herself up as small as she could manage. "Stef?" No response. "Stefani?" Still no answer. "Gaga?" he asked, no trace of confidence in his voice. Her only reply was a stifled sob. He shrugged off his pants, leaving the boxers on. Sighing dejectedly, he turned on his side to face her, and fell asleep to the sight of her back quivering beneath silent tears, her dress still gathered around her waist.


	2. Chapter 2

**How to Ruin Your Life in Fourteen Days or Less**

_A Lesson in Epic Failure_

**Day 2 – Springfield, NE**

She stared at the clock for hours, her vision blurred by a stream of self-indulgent tears. She didn't know why she let herself get so emotional. No, that was a lie. She knew damn good and well why she let it get to her. But she still didn't think it was justified.

At 2:26am she finally sat up, the darkness of the room surrounding her, embracing her like a warm blanket. She enjoyed the dark more than she let on. It was comforting. It accepted her for who she was, even if the perception of herself was ever-changing. She never had to question its motives, and she found solace in that. She knew it would never turn on her or become jealous of her family, friends, or her theater. It would never be consumed or overwhelmed by The Fame. The darkness loved her unconditionally.

She managed to claim about two hours of fitful sleep between Jo and her tears. During this time she had tossed and turned so frequently that her dress had become hidden under the covers at her feet, leaving her naked in the dark. Jo lay beside her, mumbling in his sleep. Every once in a while he would call her name, "Stefani," into the night. She wondered briefly what he was dreaming, only to realize that she didn't really care. It wasn't that she didn't care for him, but that she was just too mentally exhausted to summon the energy to give a damn.

She retrieved her dress from its hiding place, slipped it on, and walked towards her Channel bag in the corner of the room. After a few moments of blind searching she finally found her phone. Without bothering to look at the keys, and with no regard to time (after all, it was an hour earlier in New York), she pressed and held the "2" key. "Daddy" danced across the screen, illuminating the room like a beacon. She put the phone to her ear and walked out of the bedroom.

Joe answered on the second ring, his voice laden with sleep. "Baby? Are you ok?" The concerned voice of her father traveled the thousands of miles between them, filling her with a warm comfort.

"I'm fine Daddy, just tired. Did Pete tell you what happened?"

"Pete and Jo both; said you collapsed on the set. But that Dr. Tracey thinks you just need some rest." He paused briefly. "I trust that you've been resting?" There was no accusation in his voice, only calm concern and understanding.

"Yes Daddy, I've been resting. I slept from the time we left the set until Jo came to bed."

"He didn't try any funny business, did he?"

"No Daddy, no funny business." Technically, she was not lying to her father; Jo had not been the one to instigate their tumble between the sheets, after all. She laughed softly, and he chuckled in return.

Grabbing her door key, she let the door click quietly behind her. She looked to her left, then her right. A feeling of relief swept over her when she realized the hallway was empty. Solitude was so infrequent in her life that she said a silent 'thank you' for this moment of quiet peace. She made her way to the end, where a door to the left led to a flight of stairs. She opened the door and looked around. They were on the top floor of the hotel, but there were six steps to her right that led outside. She climbed the stairs, cold beneath her bare feet, and opened the door to reveal a pebble covered rooftop.

The air was crisp, but not cold. She walked to the edge and sat down. She folded her arms across the top of the two foot wall enclosing the roof, and rested her chin on them. She could see the grass, gray without the sun's light, stretching out before her. This part of the world was still mostly asleep at this hour. She sighed softly into the phone. "What's on your mind?" her father asked.

"Nothing…everything," she said, her tone melancholy. She sighed again, not quite sure where to begin. She knew that when she started, everything would come crashing in around her, an avalanche of emotion. Once she started, there was no turning back. She had been fighting against this overwhelming, but ultimately unstoppable, force for a while now. Feeling she had been strong for long enough, she let the flood gates open. Joe listened patiently on the other end of the line.

When she returned to the room about two hours later the sky had begun to grow light over the sleepy city. She felt considerably better after speaking with her father, as she always did, but there was still a sense of dread looming over her. As quietly as she could, she returned her key to the table in the sitting room and her phone to her purse. Climbing back into bed, she pulled the covers to her chin, closed her eyes and prayed for restful sleep. She was unaware that Jo was awake until he scooted up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "How's your dad?" he asked into her neck. She tensed slightly, hoping he would not feel it, and turned her head towards him. "He's good; worried about me like always." She smiled into the night. He nuzzled closer to her, his body flush with hers, and she fought with all of her strength not to tense again or move forward. Not that she had the room; she was already on the edge of the bed. "He said you called him, that you were worried." "Yeah, but I still don't think he likes me very much." She laughed softly with him. Before they both nodded off to sleep Jo leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She awoke around 9:00am to the sounds of commotion in the kitchen and the smell of bacon. Inhaling deeply, she delighted in the smell. After a quick detour to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water across her face, she quickly shrugged on some panties and walked to the kitchen to greet Jo.

"Morning babe," he said.

"Hmm, good morning." She smiled when she spotted the dusting of flour on his nose. Standing on the tips of her toes she kissed it away. He smiled brightly at her and kissed her forehead.

"You're in a good mood this morning." She had not seen him in such a good mood in several weeks. Lately his moods had been saturated in beer, whiskey and the occasional shot of vodka. She knew that she had to tread lightly though; because just below the surface of his incredibly good moods there sometimes lurked a viperous darkness.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, surveying the growing pile of dirty dishes.

"Bacon, eggs, Southern style biscuits; none of that canned shit." He winked slyly. "And I was going to try my hand at some white gravy, if you'd be interested. My great gran lived down south for a while and picked up the recipe. It's killer."

He was smiling broadly, like he hadn't a care in the world. She wondered briefly if he even remembered what had happened the night before. She fought hard to keep this thought from making her bitter. "Sure."

While he went to work on the rest of breakfast, she made her way back to the bathroom. She could hear her phone buzzing in her bag. There was a new message from her mother. 'How are you feeling? Please get some rest. We love you!' it read. She put her phone back into her bag, and closed the bathroom door behind her. Hesitating a moment, she engaged the lock, ensuring her privacy. Showers were the one time she could be genuinely alone with herself, and she desperately needed this alone time. Looking into the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair and let her dress fall to the floor.

She turned the water on as hot as she could stand and stood beneath the spray, allowing it to run over her in tiny rivulets. "Fuck," she said, her voice lost in the cascading water. "What am I doing?" She placed her right hand against the shower wall and began to cry, her tears vanishing into the hard spray. As the tears and hot water washed over her, she thought about the burdens she was carrying.

They were so varied and wide that they almost seemed too absurd to be considered together. This was the second time she had cried in as many days. She had to do something to fix this, and it had to be soon. Even the security she found in solitude was beginning to slip from her grasp.

She closed her eyes tightly against the visions running through her mind, as if this would allow her to shield herself from them. But they kept flashing before her mind's eye. The delay in her video shoot, the growing animosity she felt from those around her and her fans towards Laurieann, the persistent black cloud surrounding her health, and now the downward spiral she felt she was trapped in with Jo. With her eyes still tightly closed and her hand pressed firmly against the wall for support, she began to sing softly, the beat of the water against her body and the floor almost devouring her words before they escaped her lips.

"And when something falls out of place, I take my time, I put it back. I touch myself 'til I'm on track," she sang to herself. As her voice gave way to humming she breathed deeply, the moisture of the steam and water filling her with hope. With a sigh she touched her fingers to her lips. Looking down at her naked body she noticed a trail of water cascading from her neck. It coursed down between her breasts and over the flat plane of her stomach, finally disappearing below the curve of her thigh. She traced the line with her fingertips, pausing at the scar by her naval. Her fingers remained there for a moment before resuming their downward exploration.

"Just give in; don't give up baby. Open up your heart and your mind to me." As she continued to sing, her fingers disappeared between her thighs, a place she could always find comfort. "Just know when that glass is empty that the world is gonna bend." She allowed her fingers to slip inside, gently massaging in a taut circle.

Before she could find her rhythm she heard the doorknob rattle and the door move in its frame. Suddenly the handled jolted, almost violently. "Hey! What the hell? Why is the door locked? Are you ok?" He banged against the door. There was a slight edge to his voice. She wasn't entirely sure if it was concern or anger that she heard. She turned off the water so he could hear her.

"Oh, sorry, I must have hit the lock as I was closing the door. I've just got to wash my hair and I'll be right out."

"Oh…ok. Sorry. You had me worried when I realized the door was locked. After yesterday, I guess I'm a bit paranoid." He paused briefly. "Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes, was just coming to tell you."

"Ok. I'll be out in a minute."

She turned the water back on, ice cold, and let it bathe her. She shivered, but the jolt cleared her mind. She gradually reintroduced the hot water and quickly washed her hair. Showers were usually a great source of pleasure, in several senses, but this one had lost its luster. Once she was sure her hair was rinsed clean she shut the water off again and reached for two towels. She wrapped one tightly around her hair, the other around her dripping body. Retrieving her discarded clothes from the floor she unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom. Before drying herself off and getting dressed, she reached into her bag for her phone. She quickly typed a reply to her mother's message. 'Taking it easy today; thinking about going into town. Love you all! 3'

She quickly dressed and made her way back to the kitchen, where Jo was setting the table for breakfast. He had put on a pot of coffee while she was in the shower. She inhaled the rich aroma, allowing a tiny smile. When she reached the table he pulled out a chair for her. "Thank you," she said quietly and sat down. He pushed her chair in and took the seat beside her. "Everything looks and smells delicious."

"Thanks," he beamed. "I just hope it tastes ok. I may have accidentally garnished a few dishes with some cigarette ash." They both laughed nervously. She bowed her head in a quiet prayer and they began to eat in silence.

"About last night…" She had never liked hearing those words. They seemed innocent enough, sure, but she found they were almost always loaded. Like a gun with no safety and a hair trigger.

"Hmm," she nodded, not looking up from her meal. She neither encouraged him to go on nor tried to stop him.

"I don't know what I did, or if I was even the reason behind it, but if I made you cry…" He looked down, shame keeping his eyes from focusing on her face. Taking her left hand into both of his, he breathed deeply and finally met her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, unable to hide the shocked expression she wore.

"I was an asshole. I shouldn't have let it happen." She raised her hand in protest, but he trudged on. "No. I know that if you hadn't wanted to do it you wouldn't have. I know. But I shouldn't have let it happen regardless. I feel like I took advantage of you, and I feel like shit for it. I don't know, I guess I thought that it was a way to prove that you, no we, are stronger than this. That's some pretty fucked up thinking, huh? And, I'm sorry I made such a fuss about the door," he added sheepishly, looking embarrassed. "I overreacted."

He looked at her for a long moment while she processed this, a slide show of emotions playing across her soft features. Finally she broke the swelling silence. "You weren't the one who started it, it was me. I was afraid." She looked down at their joined hands. "The only way I felt I could feel safe was to be as close to you as possible," she said in a tiny voice, barely above a whisper. "There's really no other way I know of to be physically closer to anyone." She shrugged and let her eyes meet his, her expression becoming serious. "But you are an asshole," she said, wrinkling her nose at him playfully.

He smiled back at her, kissing the back of her hand and the tips of each finger. "Forgive me?"

"Hmm, I don't know," she said, her tone still serious. "Let me sleep on it," she winked at him and he smiled broadly in return. They ate breakfast and enjoyed light small talk. Nothing more was said about the previous night.

After breakfast they sat together on the couch, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. They fell asleep in each other arms, the TV turned to a local station. At 11:30am they were startled awake by the intro music to the local news broadcast. In a jerk reflex Jo had brought his arms up in a defensive position. But due to the very limited space on the sofa, Gaga was knocked to the floor.

"Ow," she complained rubbing her aching backside.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry babe! Are you ok?" Jo was panic stricken realizing what he had done.

"Yeah, I'm fine. My ass broke my fall," she replied, and they both burst into laughter.

"Babe, I told you I was an asshole," he said, fighting to catch his breath.

"Jo Calderone, I have never denied that fact," she said between fits of laughter.

He helped her back onto the sofa, offering to kiss her injured ass to make it feel better. She graciously declined, saying she would save such an event for a later, more public time.

"So, what do you have planned for today? You're not thinking of trying to work, are you? I think your dad would kill us both."

"No, I think I'll take it easy today. I read online that there are a few art galleries in town. I'd like to check those out. Did you want to come with me?"

A guilty expression on his face, he explained that he'd made plans with some local friends a few weeks prior to hang out while they were in town. He'd known that he would only be needed on set for one or two days, and that Nebraska would be boring as hell without something to do.

"You don't mind, do you? I can reschedule if you want?"

"No, that's fine. I hope you guys have fun. What were you planning to do?"

"We were going to head out towards the mall. They have an awesome garage just behind it. They said they may have some parts for Marilyn there. So we're gonna check that out. And then I think we're gonna go bowling, and maybe head out to a bar later."

Jo left the hotel around 12:30 to meet his friends, leaving Gaga alone on the sofa to watch the news. When it was over she returned to the bathroom where she applied a light dusting of make-up. Back in the bedroom she opened a tall case full of wigs, each one sitting atop a bust. There was a virtual rainbow before her, but just about everything was laced into blonde. The one she chose was solid blonde and stopped at the small of her back, the ends tapering off in loose curls. She slipped on a sheer black dress over matching black bra and panties, and put on a pair of her favorite shoes, the late Alexander McQueen's "Dragon" heels, also in black.

She met Pete and Ed outside of her room just before 1:00pm. When Gaga noticed Ed looked a little fidgety she asked if everything was ok. He apologized and told her he really needed to take a personal day. He had chipped a crown the night before while raiding the snacks in the honor bar, and needed to find an emergency dentist. After five minutes of profuse apologizing she finally convinced him that she was a big girl and that she would be fine if he left her. She also reminded him that she still had Pete to try and keep her out of trouble.

There was a group of art studios in Omaha called Hot Shops Art Center. She had researched it before the shoot even began, wanting to try to explore the area before she had to leave. By 1:30 she was walking into the Bruning Sculpture Museum. Pete knew the routine; close but not too close. In such a small town as this she would go almost unnoticed, even in her more daring attire. Almost. But today she blended in well enough while still looking slightly out of place to the more observant eye.

The interior of the gallery was small and full of twisted metal. She stopped to admire each piece, running her fingers over the hard, cold surfaces. The marriage of jagged edges and sharp lines reminded her of so many things. The Fame, unforgiving, honed, dangerous, cold yet alluring; Jo, rough around the edges, but pliable with enough friction; herself, strong, a demanding presence, fantastical, nonconformist. The pieces were all quite incredible.

As she admired a piece called "Holy Man," she was approached by a young man. "Stunning, isn't it?" He held out his hand towards her. "Hi, I'm David."

"Hi. It's nice to meet you." Turning back to the sculpture she said "Yes, it is quite beautiful."

"Thank you," he beamed. "I actually worked with the artist on this piece. I'm Mr. Bruning's apprentice." He grinned broadly.

"Your work is amazing," she said and smiled.

Suddenly David was bombarding her with the usual "I'm making small talk so I can check you out" tête-á-tête. She entertained his questions as best she could, but he was like a tape with a ribbon jam. As soon as she'd answer one question he would fire off another and another, each one coming faster than the last.

She was quite relieved when she felt Pete's presence behind her. The moment he took his place there, David's seemingly endless babble stopped instantly, mid sentence. And like most men who tried to get too friendly, this one backed off and quickly retreated, a dog with its tail between its legs. She and Pete looked at a few more sculptures together until Gaga suggested they get something to eat.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand Pete, I'm starving!"

"I could eat."

"You could always eat," she said, playfully swatting at his arm.

"So could you," he grinned, a sly half smile in place.

"This is so true!" she agreed. "Hey, while I was watching TV this morning I saw a commercial for a pizza place called "Goodnights". They boasted having the largest bar in Omaha. Wanna check it out?"

"Sure," Pete said, amused that Gaga was already Googling the address. She keyed the information into the built in navigation system and they were on their way. Their eyes scanned the area cautiously. Even thought they were getting step-by-step directions, Gaga didn't trust the GPS. Those bitches were never right. They drove until they reached a side street. She spotted the big "G" before she even realized what she was looking at.

"Ooh! There's the street!" she said excitedly, just as they were on top of it. Because the GPS had not warned him it was approaching, Pete had to slam on the brakes to make the turn. Two wheels briefly left the road, the other two squealed in protest. She gave Pete an 'I told you so' grin. "I told you those damned things are never right!" she said, and they both burst into laughter.

"This place had better be good, girl," he chided.

As they approached the brick building with red awnings and a large "G" above the door, they realized they were at the right place. Everything about the place screamed that she needed to be there. Checking her Blackberry, while Pete looked for a parking spot, she scanned over the "About Us" page, which blazingly said "…so we could be your (G) spot," she knew she was in love.

"Oh yeah, this place has to be awesome if they want to be my "G" spot!" she said with a wry smile.

The restaurant was virtually empty, which was no surprise given it was just after 3pm on a Tuesday. They walked towards the back to an empty booth in the corner. Before they were even properly seated, a young man, who introduced himself as Jamey, was at their table, two menus in hand and a huge smile on his face. She wasn't sure if he recognized her or if he was just incredibly happy until she saw his bracelet. He took their drink order and hurried off to the bar. While their drinks were being filled they caught the young man excitedly pointing towards them when he thought they weren't looking.

"That's too cute," Gaga said, her chin resting on the back of her clasped hands. She signed happily. When Jamey would catch them looking he would turn away bashfully and pretend to be busy.

When he returned with their drinks she told him she liked his bracelet, a wide, glittery blue band that had "Born This Way" stamped in white on one side and "Lady Gaga" stamped in white twice on the other. He almost hyperventilated with excitement. He told them of the specials and made a few recommendations. After they ordered she signed his order pad.

While they waited for their large pepperoni and extra cheese pizza Gaga got out her Crackberry (as she sometimes called it) and sent another message to Cynthia telling her that she was having a great time being lazy and that she was feeling a lot better. She also told her that they intended to be in Nebraska until at least Sunday if Natali still wanted to fly out to visit the set. She got a response from her mother in less than five minutes telling her to take it easy, be sure to eat, and to call her if she needed anything. She got a text from Natali shortly after about arranging her flight to Nebraska. She told her sister she would be out on Friday and would spend the weekend with her.

Gaga and Pete finished off the entire pizza, along with two beers and two root beers. Gaga had insisted that Pete at least drink something that resembled alcohol since he refused to drink any while on the job.

"One of these days, Pete, I'm gonna get you so wasted!" she said, her own light buzz making her feel content and warm. All of the troubles from the day before slipped away as her inebriation amplified.

"Where's Jo?" Pete asked in a nonchalant tone.

"Hanging out with his friends. He said something about a garage by the mall and bowling." She shrugged her shoulders to indicate that she wasn't bothered by this, but her eyes could not belie the hurt she felt.

Though Pete knew she was hurting beneath her bright smile, he had no inkling as to the true reasoning behind her pain. He wished he could offer her solace, but knew that would overstep the boundaries of his responsibilities. He cared for her too much to risk leaving her vulnerable because he got too close. When he had been hired, Joe had pulled him to the side and strictly told him that his daughters' private life was just that and that no matter how much he may want to step in to try and fix things, he was not to do so. He deeply respected the Germanotta's and would not go against their wishes, so he stayed out of her personal affairs as best he could. Lately it was proving more and more difficult.

After spending about two hours at Goodnights, Pete waved for the bill. When it arrived they both reached for it. Gaga barely grabbed it first. Pete gave her a look and she shook her head.

"Nope! I'll get the bill. You can leave the tip!" She winked at him and he couldn't help but laugh. When she winked, her entire face joined the party, and he found it terribly amusing. Gaga laid out her gleaming black Centurion card with the bill. Jamey rushed over eagerly to take the payment. He had seen countless American Express cards in a rainbow of colors, but had only ever heard of the fabled black card. The name Stefani J Germanotta twinkled brilliantly silver from the anodized titanium card. He flipped the card to check the signature panel. He was almost disappointed that neither the card face nor the signature panel said Lady Gaga. When the receipt and her card were returned, Pete laid out a very large tip and they walked out via the patio.

"Where to now?" Pete asked, casting her a sideways glance. There were fewer cars on the street now, which wasn't saying much considering the streets had been virtually deserted before. Rush hour traffic had come and gone, but now the bar was starting to get busy and people were starting to stare. They were quite an odd pair, even without her extravagant clothing and towering shoes.

"I don't know. There's not really much else to do around here, is there?" She looked around doubtfully. "I wouldn't mind a nice, long, hot bubble bath actually. Wanna head back towards the hotel?"

Pete nodded and they were on their way. About half way down the highway Gaga got a text from Jo asking if she'd like to join him and his friends at the bowling alley. Apparently Tuesdays were couples bowling. She looked apologetically at Pete and asked if he minded turning around.

"Whatever you want kiddo," he smiled and turned the Suburban around in the middle of the highway. He'd have never been able to pull such a U-turn in Manhattan. He grinned broadly as he punched the accelerator and the black beast roared on.

They were at the bowling alley within forty minutes. She put on her darkest pair of sunglasses and waited for Pete to help her out of the SUV. Considering her heels and vertically challenged height, Pete had told her he would help her out. He didn't want to see her trying to jump down and hurt herself.

Jo was standing outside, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Silver smoke coiled upward, obscuring his face. When he saw her he flicked the extinguished butt to the sidewalk and walked towards her, running his fingers through his fringe.

"Hey babe," he said as he embraced her and kissed her cheek. Because her Dagon heels were not monstrously tall he didn't even have to stand on his toes to reach her tonight. For once, they actually stood at eye level together. The smell of cheap beer and cigarettes hung heavily in the air between them. Jo held his box of Marlboro's up to her and she took one. He placed it between her crimson lips and lit the end; the flame danced in the lenses of her sunglasses. Paper crackled as it was consumed and turned to ash. Wispy tendrils of smoke flitted upward from her lips and nose as she exhaled.

"How long have you been here? I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

"Nah, we just got here about fifteen minutes ago. Rob and Lucas are inside with their girlfriends getting our lanes reserved." She gave him an irritated look. He knew that she disliked both of his friends. Had Jo told her that they would be there she probably would have told him she wasn't coming.

"Sorry babe, I know you don't like those guys. Hell, half the time I don't even like them. But I didn't want to be here by myself." He shot her his award winning 'puppy dog eyes', which usually melted her heart. "But hey, Mark, Ian, Asiel and Montana are here, so it's not a total loss, right?" He paused. "And I'm here," he said, his eyes unable to meet hers.

She extinguished her half smoked cigarette after one last, long pull, a heavy sigh escaping her hips. "You know I don't like those guys. I really wish you'd have told me they would be here. I'd have still come, just to be with you, but it would have been nice to know." She paused briefly, looking down at the stained sidewalk. "I almost feel like you tricked me into coming," she almost whispered.

He placed a hand on either side of her jaw. Lifting her face to meet his, he nodded and touched a feather soft kiss to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist. He embraced her, resting his hands at the small of her back. They stood there in each other's arms for several minutes before turning to go inside. They walked in, hand in hand, with Pete trailing along at a respectable distance.

Everyone met up at the busy shoe counter. When Gaga refused to trade her shoes out the attendant got angry. She tried to tell Gaga she couldn't bowl unless she changed shoes, but when she called her manager to assist her she was immediately told that it was ok that Gaga didn't want to change her shoes. Gaga beamed at the manager and gave him a 'Paws Up' sign, which he eagerly returned. As they were walking back towards their lane, they could hear the manager gently scolding the attendant.

Ian and Asiel wandered off to find a pool table, and the remaining group broke off into two teams, which then broke off into pairs. Gaga couldn't help but point out that Mark and Montana made a great pair of "M&M's".

"You're so lame Gaga!" Mark said, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated way, as if her lameness was quite exhausting.

"If by 'lame' you mean 'totally awesome' then yes, I am quite 'lame', thank you!" She retorted, using air quotations for emphasis. She stuck her tongue out teasingly.

Gaga felt relieved that she didn't have to be on the same team with Jo's asshole friends. As the night progressed and the drinks flowed freely, Gaga excused herself to the ladies room. Montana joined her.

"How are you feeling Gaga?" she asked her friend. "Sorry I've not had a chance to ask sooner."

"I feel a lot better, thanks," she said and hugged her tightly.

As they left the bathroom they saw Jo was walking down the long, narrow corridor towards them. Jo had been incredibly flirtatious the entire night, stealing kisses and practically having eye sex with her, so she wasn't surprised to see him.

"I'll see you in a little bit," Montana said, winking playfully when she saw the swagger in Jo's step. "Text me if you need me." Gaga smiled as her friend left her alone with the hungry wolf. As she was walking away, Gaga could hear Montana singing softly "that boy is a Monster."

"Hey sexy," he said as he advanced towards her. Before she had a chance to reply he was upon her, his fingers lost in her hair, his lips greedily overtaking hers. He moved forward until they were against the bathroom door. The handle dug painfully into her back.

"Ow," she breathed into his mouth. He stepped back, breaking the connection between them.

"Are you ok?" he asked, no hint of pretense in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said with a small smile.

His eyes darted around quickly, looking for something, anything, to afford them some privacy. Finally he spotted a yellow folding sign in the opposite corner that read 'closed for cleaning.' He quickly grabbed the sign, propped it open in front of the door, and pulled her in behind him. He scanned the area, making sure he wasn't about to lock anyone in accidentally. He was oddly amazed at how clean the room was. He voiced his amazement as he pushed her against the other side of the same door, but his words were lost in the shallow space between her neck and shoulder. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed off the walls.

In a tornado of kisses and wandering hands they made their way towards the large stall at the back of the medically white room. As they entered, she broke herself free of his embrace, her face flushed.

"I don't want to fuck in the bathroom of some fucking bowling alley Jo," she said between gasps for air.

"Fair enough; but can I at least kiss you in the bathroom of some fucking bowling alley?" he asked, a mischievous grin set on his face.

"I suppose," she said, an eyebrow raised.

Jo's lips found hers immediately and his hands grabbed hers. He brought them together above her head, joined at the wrist, and held them there with his left. His right hand moved slowly down her left arm, tracing over her tattoos. Continuing downward, his fingers danced over the swell of her breast, then over her stomach and hip.

When he reached her hip he let her hands go and gripped the sides of her dress, pulling it up slowly. She began to protest, but he silenced her with more fevered kisses. When he had the dress above her hips he squatted before her and looped his fingers into her panties. Her dress tumbled down, hiding his hands and part of his face. She hiked the lacy material back up as he pulled the other material down, letting it gather around her ankles. She stepped out of one leg and propped that foot onto the porcelain bowl. As Jo leaned in to begin, she braced herself against the wall, her hands around the metal rail for leverage.

His movements were slow and meticulous. He changed deftly between the use of his tongue and fingers. When he combined them she whimpered, and his momentum built. Her fingers pulled at his hair; the faster he went, the harder she pulled. He used this as a reference, and each time she would reflexively jerk his head he would slow down.

"Oh fuck, Jo. What the hell are you doing to me?" She could barely breathe. Every time he slowed down enough for her to catch her breath he would speed back up. "Baby, you're gonna fucking kill me."

Her dress had fallen back down over Jo's head. She quickly gathered it back up and tucked it tightly behind her back. Her hands returned to the refuge of the railing and his hair. Her shoe began to bang against the white porcelain as the muscles in her thigh tensed and released. She moved her other hand back to the rail and lifted herself up as his pace quickened, promising to let her finally peak. She bit her lower lip and turned away as bursts of light exploded before her closed eyes. Her voice caught in her throat and her cry of ecstasy came out as a choked gasp.

Her feet found the floor with a heavy thud. The weight of her body caused her thighs to quiver and her knees to buckle. Jo caught her as she began to slide down and captured her lips in a deep kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and the tip of his tongue. She kissed him harder.

She seized the waist of his pants, the buckle undone in seconds, and expeditiously worked at the button and zipper. He was instantly hard in her hand. She wasted no time finding a rhythm that caused him to jerk spasmodically. His lips broke away from hers as her pace quickened then slowed, and moved down her jaw line, then her neck. She was effectively exacting the same torture he had made her endure.

"Baby," he said, his breath scorching her already fiery skin. "Are you trying to kill me now?"

"Perhaps," she said with a cheeky grin.

He almost laughed, but before the thought had fully formed she lowered herself on shaky legs and all coherent thought was lost. He placed both hands, palms flat, against the wall. He looked down upon her golden halo of hair as she moved back and forth against him, her hands gripping his hips. He put one hand in her hair, a fist forming, but removed it immediately when she looked up at him, her eyes daring him to keep grabbing her hair while he was in such a vulnerable position.

"Sorry," he managed between ragged breaths. She hummed an 'uh huh' in response, the vibrations causing his entire body to convulse.

Suddenly there was a loud banging against the door. The handle rattled angrily and the door shook in its frame.

"Hey! What's going on in there?" an angry and rather terrifying voice demanded.

"Oh shit!" Jo said, a mixture of amusement, irritation and horror washing over his features.

Gaga was on her knees doubled over in silent laughter, her face shining from the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Yeah, laugh it up. At least you got to finish. I'm gonna have blue balls all night." He tried to sound upset, but it was quite difficult to manage while she was all but rolling around on the floor, clutching the stitch in her side.

He helped her off of the floor after he'd safely tucked himself back into his pants. After she brushed herself off, Gaga sent a text to Montana asking her help in getting them out of the bathroom. She told her to have Pete get the guy off the door so they could sneak out. A moment later they could hear Pete's Dutch accent asking the man what was wrong. After a few minutes of one-sided shouting the two voices finally faded away.

Montana sent an "all clear" message, and Gaga and Jo snuck out of the bathroom one at a time, but not before she chanced a quick glance in the mirror to make sure they were both presentable. When they finally joined their group again, Pete seemed to have the large man under control. They all figured that "closed for cleaning" signs meant nothing to this guy. As it turned out, they meant a lot to him because he was over the custodial services for the facility and he knew two things. One, there was no scheduled cleaning at this time, and two, a lot of kids liked to take advantage of such signs. As Pete would tell them later on, as they were leaving, Jack the custodian had informed him that "there isn't much to do around here other than bowl and fuck; and these kids try to do both here."

After so much excitement, the group decided that bowling was no longer enjoyable and began collecting their things. By 10:45pm they were walking out to their vehicles. Jo rode back with Gaga and Pete, and the rest of the Haüs piled into their rental car. For the second time in two nights, Gaga fell asleep on the ride back to the hotel, her head nestled in Jo's lap. He stroked her hair gently the entire ride back. When they got back to the hotel and Pete gave the "all clear", Jo carried Gaga to their room. After taking off her dress and shoes, he tucked her in, gently kissing her forehead. He whispered goodnight before crawling in bed himself. Nestling closely behind her, he draped an arm over her waist and soon fell asleep.

23


End file.
